


Nothing Fucks with My Baby

by NedandChuck



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: 5+1, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, eiffel nd jacobi are secretly really mushy, general warning for kepler, im gonna keep it real w you chief, theres background maxwell/lovelace!! because i love themm, this is super lighthearted the summary makes it seem more fluffy than it is, this was originally like 500 words but then i kept going and now its almost 6k, very loose knowledge of spacecraft maintenance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NedandChuck/pseuds/NedandChuck
Summary: Five times Jacobi protected Eiffel and one time Eiffel protected Jacobi.





	Nothing Fucks with My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wrote this just cause I felt really defensive every time someone told Eiffel to shut up and then i was like....i do that too though...

**(1)**

       Jacobi has nothing even resembling the right to be angry when other people on the ship tell Eiffel to shut up. He’s plenty guilty of doing it himself, in fact, in just as angry a tone as everyone else who eventually gets tired of his endless references or confused running commentary.

       And yet here he is, knelt in front of the broken machinery he’s been tasked to fix, absolutely seething as Lovelace and Minkowski go back and forth, Eiffel between them. _Originally_ , Jacobi rationalizes his feelings, Eiffel had been in on the conversation the commanding officers are having. Not only was he the part of it, but he was also the one who had initiated it. It makes absolutely no sense that they are now shutting him down every time he tries to get in more than three words.

“We could always-“ Eiffel tries again nervously, obviously knowing he won’t be allowed to finish his sentence.

       “Shut _up_ , Eiffel!” Lovelace and Minkowski chorus for what must have been the hundredth time since they had come into the room.

       “Goddammit it, just let him speak,”

       Silence falls over the room, and Jacobi takes a moment to register that he had caused it, had maybe not been able to mutter under his breath as he’d hoped. In the shiny reflection of the piece of ship he is working on, he can vaguely make out three faces turned toward him. Maybe if he keeps working he can pretend it hadn’t happened.

       “Got something to say, Jacobi?”

       No dice.

       Slowly, he turns around, not getting up from the ground, as if this conversation isn’t worth the effort it would take. He can’t tell if the blood was rushing to or draining from his face, but either way, it probably gave away his nonchalant act, “No, I’m just really bored of this conversation. Eiffel and I have work to do, and I figured this would be over a whole lot faster if you two would stop talking over him for half of a minute.”

       Minkowski opens her mouth, and Jacobi feels a little thrill to be the one to interrupt her this time, “I am wildly aware that he’s a dumbass, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong all of the time.”

       He makes the mistake of looking to Eiffel when the man makes an affronted noise at being insulted and defended at the same time and has to shove down certain emotions at the look of something like awe at the fact that he was defended at all. Because he’s not a total dork, and this isn’t a lifetime movie or something, he resists the urge to continue with, “And anyway he’s my dumbass.”

       “You’re not wrong,” Minkowski concedes, and when she turns back to Lovelace and Eiffel, Jacobi makes every effort to tune them out and continue his work. He shouldn’t have gotten involved, this was completely embarrassing, and now they might think he cared about them or something. Even if he did, just a little bit, they absolutely did not need to know that.

       He’s almost startled when Eiffel comes to kneel next to him a few minutes later, and when he looks around, Lovelace and Minkowski have left the room, “Uh, how’d it go?”

       “About how you’d expect,” Eiffel nods solemnly, “Only about half of my ideas were dismissed as garbage nonsense, but at least they got heard, I suppose. Thank you.”

       “Uh, yeah,” Jacobi turns away from his sincere look; Maxwell is absolutely going to give him shit when he inevitably tells her about this, “No problem. I just think men don’t get enough room to have their voices heard in the workplace.”

       Eiffel barks out a laugh at that, which is surprising, since it was a bad joke and Jacobi had been a little bit worried it wouldn’t be taken as a joke at all. He tries to keep the pride off of his face as Eiffel settles down next to him, pressing their shoulders together in solidarity for a moment before he returns to repairs.

**(2)**

       “Who the fuck,” Lovelace’s growl is low and menacing, and out of the corner of his eye, Jacobi sees Alana’s head snap to attention. He nudges her with his elbow and sees her go bright red, kicking him sharply for daring to call her out. “Who the fuck drank the last of the hot chocolate?”

       Across the table from him, Jacobi sees Eiffel freeze, mug lifted to his lips, eyes wide. Lovelace rattles the empty tin threateningly. Alana coos to their captain that her anger in the face of being robbed of sweets is adorable and is met with flustered stammering. Eiffel finally meets Jacobi’s eyes.

       It’s difficult to have a mental conversation with someone who isn’t Maxwell. Eiffel definitely isn’t as attuned to his micro expressions as she is, and he has no idea how he can convey to the other man that he wants to help him, not rat him out like Eiffel’s widening eyes would suggest. Casually, he sets his mug of coffee down on the table and hopes Eiffel follows suit, keeping his eyes trained on where Maxwell is, willingly or not, distracting Lovelace. Maybe his best friend is secretly trying to wingman him, or maybe they are just so in tune with each other that she knows exactly what to do to help him out when he needs it, whether either of them know it or not.

       He hopes to any gods listening that it’s the latter, because if she is trying to nudge his complicated feelings for the communications officer in any direction – it’s too much for him to think about, even now that he has accepted that any feelings exist in the first place.

       Eiffel sets down his mug, looking curious, towards the middle of the table where Jacobi can quickly snatch it up and slide his own mug of coffee into Eiffel’s waiting hands. He blinks in surprise at the coffee in his hands, then back up to where Jacobi is sipping at the practically empty mug of cocoa. He throws Eiffel a wink, then turns his attention back to Lovelace.

       “So sorry, oh captain, my captain,” Lovelace’s head turns toward away from Alana before her eyes do, but when she sees him grinning smugly, mug raised, her easygoing look drops back down to a scowl, “I had no idea you were saving this for anything.”

       Maxwell must have done a number on her because she doesn’t do anything but scowl at him as he lifts the empty cup to pretend to take a slow sip. He glances down and notices the women’s fingers intertwined, and instead directs his smirk to Maxwell. She drops Lovelace’s hands and goes to lean over Jacobi’s chair, sparing a quick sideways glance to Eiffel before dropping her voice so only Jacobi could hear.

       “Those are some bold words coming from you,” she grins, “Tell me, Danny, have you thought yet about the fact that Eiffel’s lips just touched the same place you’re putting your mouth right now?”

       Like a middle schooler, Jacobi splutters on nothing, fumbles the mug, and directs a glare at his best friend, world-class traitor. He refuses to look over at Eiffel, because he is a grown ass man who does _not_ believe in cooties and has _no_ reaction to something like a second-hand kiss or whatever. Maxwell and Lovelace leave the room and he glowers after them, ignoring the questioning coming from across the table.

       Absently, he goes to take a drink again and frowns when the mug is empty.

       “I guess I owe you two now, huh?”

       “What?”

       Eiffel pushes the mug of coffee back across the table, and Jacobi grabs it to take a drink, determined to get caffeinated before his next shift, “That’s the second time you’ve looked out for me. I didn’t know you cared.”

       Ignoring the way the man bats his eyelashes, Jacobi rolls his eyes and drains the last of his coffee, using it as an excuse to take both mugs to the sink.

       “And now you’re even doing chores?” As Eiffel flutters a hand over his chest, Jacobi wonders if it’s possible to drown out his thoughts of domesticity with the sound of running water, especially when he continues with, “Is there _anything_ I can do to make it up to you, dear?”

       “Sure, wanna take my next rotation so that I can take a twelve-hour nap instead?”

       Sometime when he wasn’t paying attention, Eiffel had gone from sitting at the dining table to standing at the counter beside him, dishtowel in hand. “Absolutely not,” he pats Jacobi’s cheek fondly before setting about drying and putting away the dishes. Jacobi turns heel and bolts out the door before Eiffel can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

**(3)**

       They’re probably not supposed to be here.

       Minkowski would absolutely kill them if she knew what they were doing.

       Maybe if she didn’t want to deal with the risks, she shouldn’t have announced a ship-wide prank day, though. Anyone aboard could have seen how that would have gone wrong, even Eiffel would have probably thought better of it.

       Then again, he and Maxwell were at fault, she had only created the holiday so that the two of them could get their antics “out of their systems” after their personal prank war had ended up with Hera speaking exclusively Latin for couple hours.

       Despite the fact that they had started on opposite sides, Jacobi had been sure when Minkowski had made her announcement that he and Maxwell would be teaming up to wreak the most havoc aboard the ship that anyone possibly could in one day. Instead, she had joined up with Lovelace _against him_ , in an act that had to be the biggest act of betrayal aboard the Hephaestus since Kepler had come aboard. Maybe even an even bigger affront than that.

       After he found half of his things encased in jello, enlisted Eiffel’s help to cover Alana’s quarters in sticky notes, and the four of them got a stern talking to about wasting resources, the teams quietly decided that the winner of the prank war would be the one who got Minkowski the best.

       And now Jacobi and Eiffel are stuck in the hallway between the Commander’s quarters and their work station, having just hidden 50 various images of Hilbert around her room, and those are definitely her footsteps around the corner, headed right towards them.

       “Um,” Eiffel whispers frantically, flapping his arms towards the sound of their imminent doom, just in case Jacobi wasn’t aware how close they were to death.

       “How much do you trust me?” Jacobi murmurs back, and the reason his heart is in his throat and pounding like his life depends on it has everything to do with how afraid he is and nothing to do with the idea he’s formulating.

       “Not as far as I can throw you,” Eiffel responds immediately, “But if you have an idea, then I’m all-“

       He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Jacobi is crowding him against the wall and leaning up to kiss him soundly on the mouth. The responding sigh is not at all the reaction Jacobi was expecting. What he had been ready to deal with a lot of flailing and indignant noises, which thinking about it, really raises a question of consent. At that thought, Jacobi draws back to apologize, but before he gets far, Eiffel is chasing his lips, shifting the two of them so he is the one pinned to the wall. He suddenly doesn’t have to stand on his tiptoes to reach Eiffel’s mouth, and when he winds his arms around the man’s neck he realizes it’s because he’s leaning down to meet Jacobi halfway.

       The little thrill of possibly reciprocated feelings only makes it part of the way up his spine before someone clears their throat, and he’s suddenly back in the hallway using his not-so-subtle feelings as a cover to hide certain shenanigans from their boss.

       “Boys, I would prefer if you would do this on your own time, and maybe somewhere more privately than right in front of my room,” Minkowski scolds, but she’s grinning, which makes both men relax visibly. Before she heads into her room, she tosses a wink at Eiffel that makes him fluster incredibly.

       “Good, ah,” Eiffel’s voice breaks, “Quick thinking there, Agent. Looks like you’ve saved my ass once again.”

       Jacobi is still happily trapped between Eiffel and the wall, he nods soundly, “No problem. Any time. Glad to be of service. I’m going to try and shut up now.”

       “Make me,” Eiffel breaths, leaning down again.

       “That doesn’t make any sense,” Jacobi manages to get in before meeting him halfway.

**(4)**

       They haven’t really spoken about the prank day since it happened, but that isn’t to say nothing has come of it.

       Jacobi’s days have been business as usual, with the added benefit that every once in a while, Eiffel will stoop down to press their lips together before he leaves a room, or when he feels like he’s losing an argument. While Jacobi is absolutely not complaining about this very nice new addition to his day, he is getting almost anxious about what it is that they’re doing together.

       Normally, Jacobi is the type of person to specifically avoid having conversations about feelings, he usually tries his damnedest to keep things casual, but Alana has gotten it into his head that it’s possible how he feels towards Eiffel has less to do with just attraction and a lot to do with _emotion_. Now he can’t stop wondering what Eiffel thinks about their relationship.

       It’s a whole mess of stuff that he is not used to dealing with, but it isn’t something he needs to be thinking about now, when the two of them are on a spacewalk and everything they could say to one another would be broadcast to Minkowski. Even if it wasn’t, he definitely isn’t about to start a conversation that he’s terrified to have in the first place.

       Eiffel stands above him, toolkit in hand, watching him work. Ever since the doppelganger incident, Jacobi had been banned from going outside of the ship on his own, just in case they let the wrong one back in. That new fun rule led to Eiffel being assigned to babysit him on what was really just a simple repair job. Jacobi works quietly, breaking the silence every once in a while to ask for a specific tool that’s secured to the kit. Eventually he finishes the work and pushes away from the craft to double check the job. When he turns to Eiffel to ask for his opinion, the man is just staring calmly at the dwarf star behind them, not paying any attention to his surroundings.

       For a long moment, Jacobi is caught up in watching Eiffel look almost serene for once, admires his some-kind-of-partner-who-he-is-allowed-to-kiss-and-definitely-has-deeper-feelings-for as he in turn admires the beautiful scenery that Wolf 359 provides, even as it takes over all of their lives. Then the sound of the radio switching on startles them both, “You two okay up there? You’ve been awfully quiet, which can only mean that both of you have died tragically.”

       “We’re fine, Minkowski. Headed back in a second.” Jacobi quickly turns his head before Eiffel catches him staring and wants to kick himself for once again acting like the lead in a fucking Hallmark Christmas special.

       “Alright boys, look out, Hera’s picking up random debris in the area.”

       “Copy that,” Eiffel responds, making the ‘kshh’ noise unnecessarily with his mouth at the same time as the radio. He latches a big spacesuit-gloved paw onto Jacobi’s wrist for a moment as they sail back to the airlock. Along the way, he gets distracted again by the star, his grip on Jacobi releases and he slows as he becomes entranced once more.

       Jacobi continues to hang back and stare, neither of them are in too much of a rush to get back inside and be assigned hours of chores. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees something moving quickly towards Eiffel’s helmet. It’s going fast enough that if he doesn’t move, it could do some serious damage, so Jacobi calls out, “Doug!”

       The warning doesn’t work as Eiffel turns toward him instead of looking out, looking completely shocked, especially when Jacobi groans and practically tackles him around the middle. The space debris shoots past them as they gently collide with the outside of the ship. Jacobi sighs in exasperation and looks around for signs of any other floating rocks, and when he turns to level a stern glare at Eiffel for not paying attention to his surroundings, he sees the man grinning.

       “You’re making a habit of rescuing me, Jacobi,” Eiffel bats his lashes, something mischievous flashing in his eyes, “Or should I say Daniel?”

      Jacobi stammers, sighs again when he realizes he can’t save himself, and pushes away from where he had been pinning Eiffel to the ship in a cheap imitation of their first kiss. “Call me whatever you want, just keep your oxygen _inside_ of your suit when you do it.”

       He puts up no fight when Eiffel grabs him again and hauls him back to the airlock, this time making it all of the way without getting distracted.

       After they are inside, out of their space suits, and finish briefing Minkowski on the status of the ship, Jacobi tries to slip away to his station, quarters, or anywhere where he doesn’t have to face Eiffel, his feelings, or the fact that he shouted the man’s first name without any prompting. It shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does. Calling your friends or coworkers by their names isn’t abnormal, but on a military-style ship, where everyone is on a last name basis, Jacobi feels like he might as well have called him “baby.”

       Which also would not have been out of the norm for Eiffel.

       Of course, instead of letting him slip away, Eiffel does the insensitive thing and follows Jacobi all of the way to his room, closing the door behind himself and standing to watch as Jacobi sits on his bed and gestures for Eiffel to say his piece.

       Instead of anything coherent, the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, “You called me Doug.”

       “That’s your name, isn’t it?” Jacobi replies, because if Eiffel gets to be emotionally stunted, then so does he.

       “I’ve never gotten to hear you say it before,” Eiffel continues as if Jacobi hadn’t spoken, “It was nice.”

       Slowly, as if he is afraid of spooking him, Eiffel moves towards the bed and kneels in front of Jacobi, shorter than the other man for once in his life. Jacobi almost makes a snide remark about it, but his breath is stolen away by a hand coming to cup his cheek. One of these days, he will be forced to admit that as much as his brain does not want it, his heart and respiratory systems seem to be convinced that they’re in some sort of romcom. It won’t be today, though, as he struggles stubbornly to keep eye contact with Eiffel.

       “I know we haven’t talked, but would you get mad at me if I told you that I’m catching feelings for you?”

       “What?” It comes out as a quick breath.

       Eiffel nods gravely, “Big feelings. And maybe not catching so much as have already caught. I have feelings for you and it’s terminal. Hilbert prescribed fives kisses a day.”

       Jacobi slides off of his bed to level the two of them out, and clutches Eiffel’s shirt on either side of his hips, growling, “Don’t you dare mention Hilbert while you’re trying to be romantic.”

       He practically giggles, slipping his other hand up to card through Jacobi’s hair, “Sorry. Does that mean it’s okay that I’m romantic about you, then?”

       “Yeah it would be pretty hypocritical of me to tell you otherwise,” Eiffel gasps dramatically at Jacobi’s confession, so he quickly cuts him off by reaching up to kiss him, bunching the fabric in his fists to stop their nervous shaking. All in all, kissing seems to have proven an incredible method of getting Eiffel to finally shut the fuck up with none of the angst that comes with snapping at him.

**(5)**

       There isn’t any real reason for Jacobi to be sneaking through the hallways, it just feels like something he should be doing. In his arms, he carries two bottles of water and the weird, synthesized seaweed chips that Hilbert created when he got tired of Maxwell and Eiffel whining about the lack of snack foods on the ship. God, his two favorite people in their little stretch of the universe, and they were both _absolute children._ Well, he could understand the need to give in to their will, though.

       With his little treasure, he snuck back towards Eiffel’s room. Eiffel’s room, which they now shared the majority of the time, because he can’t really remember the last time that he slept in his own quarters. He was avoiding thinking about that too hard because the idea of being so romantically attached to someone was scary enough, the thought of _living_ with them- is ridiculous, since they’re practically all living together in the first place…

       Jacobi is getting distracted from his mission. When Eiffel had sent him out to get snacks, he had called it a stealth mission, “It’s Ocean’s 1. You’re 007. Oh my God, Baby, that’s so sexy,” Eiffel hadn’t gotten up from where he was laying in bed, already half asleep, as he pulled a laughing Jacobi down to kiss him softly, “Now go, I’m hungry.”

       For all his complaining, Eiffel was asleep before Jacobi even left the room.

       When he rounded the corner, he saw Lovelace at the door to Eiffel’s room, poised to knock, and he almost dropped his water bottle in his rush to stop her from interrupting Eiffel’s nap.

       “Wait, wait, wait!” His whispers were unnecessary, the doors were pretty thick.

       “What do you need, Jacobi? I have something I need to discuss with Eiffel.”

       “All due respect, Captain, but Officer Eiffel is off duty right now, and he’s also finally getting some sleep.”

       It might be the way he hisses the last part, or that everyone on board the Hephaestus is a little bit worried about how Eiffel has been taking care of himself recently, but Lovelace finally puts her fist down and nods. “Alright, tell me when he’s ready to talk, tell him I need him. Take care of him, kid.”

       While Jacobi is left making objections to the term of endearment, Lovelace claps him on the shoulder as she turns to walk away. Although she’s gone, he works on some come back about her and Maxwell as he fumbles the door open and slips inside quietly. Setting the chips and water down on the nightstand, he crouches down by the bed, struggling to keep his laughter quiet at how Eiffel’s head is half off the side in a position that can’t possibly be comfortable but doesn’t seem to disturb his snoring. He gently cards his fingers through his long, loose hair and is rewarded with a gentle hum of approval as Eiffel moves towards the hand on his head. Groggy, the man cracks open his eyes and grins as brightly as he can muster, looking first at Jacobi, then to the stolen goods on the nightstand.

       “My hero,” Eiffel mumbles, scooting backward in bed and using both arms to pull Jacobi on top of him. It doesn’t take him ten seconds before he’s snoring softly once again, and Jacobi laughs quietly as he wraps his arms around his partner and settles in for the afternoon.

**(+1)**

       Dealing with Kepler is difficult for anyone on board the space station, but it’s something the original crew tries to spare Maxwell and Jacobi from doing since they are for the most part good people who take the time to spare a second thought for those around them. That’s something Jacobi is not particularly used to, and he’s shocked every time that his wellbeing is considered above other professional priorities.

       For all that he can appreciate some of the work Goddard does, he isn’t going to be first in line to defend their treatment of their employees. Even since he became romantically involved with Eiffel, Jacobi’s still not used to things like his mental health being taken into consideration.

       Still, there are times like today when it’s unavoidable that he be sent to their makeshift brig to take Kepler his rations for the day. Everyone else was busy, so he had swallowed everything screaming inside of him and casually volunteered to take over the chore when it was being discussed that morning. Alana had leveled him with a look that meant she didn’t approve of him even considering going, but he waved her off. It’s a fair concern for her to have, she of all people knows the feelings that Jacobi used to have for their old colonel, and how messed up he could get when he had to deal with Kepler’s condescending bullshit.

       No one else could do the job, though, as much as Eiffel tried to insist to Minkowski that whatever task she needed him for could wait, and Jacobi was, in all honesty, hoping to once and for all prove to himself that he had grown past all of the bullshit from their first months on board the ship.

       Jacobi takes a few moments at the door to steel himself before putting on a neutral, if slightly pissed, expression and heading inside.

       “Ah, Mr. Jacobi,” Kepler greets in that annoying way he has, “It’s been too long.”

       “Yeah, sure. I just thought I would be an absolute saint and keep you from starving today,” Jacobi sets the rations down on the table they have set up in the corner, just in range of the short leash that chains Kepler to the wall.

       “Aw, did the crew finally trust you two enough with menial tasks?”

       “No, it just got to the point where avoiding you wasn’t a viable option. Trust me, I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

       “Oh, no, well they wouldn’t want you to be able to come in to see me too often. I might end up talking some damn sense into you.”

       Jacobi seethes for a minute and doubts that he does a very good job hiding it, “Well, you would know best how easy I am to manipulate. No, Kepler, I know this might shock you, but no one was keeping me from seeing you. The crew has very graciously worked with Maxwell and I to make sure we have to see as little of you as possible because contrary to what you might think, our world does not revolve around you. No one is plotting to get you out so that you can take control of the ship and abuse your power some more. You’re not actually important.”

       For a very long moment, Kepler sits at the table and stares at Jacobi. In that time, Jacobi thinks about what he’s just said and feels something like panic settle in the back of his chest, but he’s never let something like speaking without thinking deter him before, so he just juts out his chin and stares right back.

       “That’s awful sweet of you,” Kepler says in the hard way that makes Jacobi’s blood turn to ice. He’s a grown man, Kepler has no authority over him and besides that, the man is incapacitated. “I really am glad that you’re making friends at this fucking summer camp. You’re confusing having your poor feelings tended to with being treated with professional respect.”

       “And that’s something you have extensive knowledge about?”

       “Jacobi, I don’t know how you got it through your thick skull that whatever operation they’re playing at here is the right one, but I really hadn’t thought you were too damn stupid to distinguish right from wrong. What? You got close to one member of the crew and suddenly the world is sunshine and butterflies? Grow up.”

       He must have had some tiny change in expression because Kepler’s eyes light up and he grins.

       “Oh? You really got treated nice by one person and decided to turn coat? Who could have possibly led my most loyal agent astray? I know Maxwell was mooning over their shitty excuse for a captain, but she doesn’t seem like your type,” as if he clued himself in, Kepler makes another face of realization, _“Eiffel?_ You’re changing your convictions for their communications officer? You could do so much better, Jacobi, he’s dumber than a sack of bricks.”

       Out of something that feels like pure instinct, Jacobi bites out, “Shut the fuck up,” as Kepler laughs. The door to the observation deck/brig opens at that moment, making Jacobi jump out of his skin and turns sharply only to fully relax at the sight of Eiffel standing in the doorway, looking for all the world ready to get defensive.

       “Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” Kepler cries out, still sounding amused, “Jacobi, your white knight has appeared to save you from the big, bad wolf.”

       Eiffel storms over and places himself between Jacobi and Kepler, checking the former over as if there were a chance that Kepler could have hurt him. He has one hand on his partner’s cheek, and Jacobi covers it with his own hand. The way Eiffel pays no attention to the prisoner almost makes him want to laugh, it must hurt his pride so much to be so completely ignored. Instead, he just rolls his eyes and nods at Eiffel’s silent, “Are you okay?”

       “Really, Jacobi, we’ve not been in space for that long, I didn’t expect you to be so desperate for someone’s attention.”

       Eiffel whirls around, even though Jacobi’s expression is mildly annoyed with the sound of Kepler’s voice at worst. “Sorry, I can’t exactly remember asking for your opinion?”

       “You didn’t, but I don’t remember needing your permission. This is a pathetic display, you’re both grown men who can’t get through one simple mission without getting into some odd substitute for romance?”

       “First of all, I don’t really expect you to understand what human connection is, so we’ll let that slide,” Eiffel crosses his arms over his chest, and somewhere in the back of his mind, where his personality has given into something mushy and romantic, Jacobi thinks he looks cute. “Second, it completely boggles the mind that you of all people can’t grasp the fact that someone is in love with Jacobi. You worked with him for _years_ , and I know you must have some semblance of humanity in you, but I also know that you have a lot of trouble seeing other people as anything but tools. Man, open your eyes, there’s a reason why Maxwell and Jacobi found it so easy to believe when you pulled a fucking Gollum and revealed that you’ve not so secretly sucked this whole time. Come on, Daniel.”

       Jacobi lets himself be led by the hand out the door, ignoring Kepler’s ongoing taunts. Ignoring everything, really, because ever since Eiffel had said it, the words “someone is in love with Jacobi,” have been playing in his mind on repeat. Eiffel drags him all of the way back to their room – which has become _their_ room – and stomps about angrily for a second before realizing that Jacobi isn’t responding.

       “Uh, baby, you wanna share what’s on your mind?”

       “You’re in love with me?” He says stupidly, and his own voice shakes him out of the daze as he backtracks, “I mean, I don’t know, it’s fine. It’s just that you were ranting at Kepler and you said-“

       “Oh my God, did I say that?” Eiffel looks vaguely panicked, “I, uh, am sorry? No, wait I’m not sorry, that sounds shitty, I didn’t mean it.”

       “You didn’t mean it,” Jacobi echoes.

       “No stop, Daniel, wait,” Eiffel takes him by the shoulders and shakes him a little bit, staring sincerely into his eyes. “I do love you, I think I probably am in love with you. I’ve been thinking that for a while, I just hadn’t meant to say it yet, especially like that. I know how you are about relationship stuff, I didn’t want to like, scare you or something.”

       Jacobi stares back for a long while and thinks about how much he likes Eiffel calling him Daniel instead of Jacobi. He then realizes that Eiffel is freaking out and that he hasn’t actually responded.

       “Are you okay?”

       “I might be in love with you, too?”

       Eiffel goes still for half a second. He looks more shocked than he has any right to, given how easy it is for Jacobi to love him. Then he breaks out into a grin so bright that it rivals Wolf 359. “Really? Are you sure it’s not a heat of the moment thing?”

       “No, I’m not,” Jacobi admits, “But I seriously haven’t felt like this toward anyone else. Doug, stop looking at me like a dumbass, just come here.”

       Jacobi hauls Eiffel into a kiss that is only partly deterred by the smiles that have overtaken both of their faces. He pulls back after a second and drops his head onto Eiffel’s shoulder, groaning, “Ugh, being with you has made me a complete disgusting sap. I need to go blow up a lot of things to gain back my street cred.”

       “Aw,” Eiffel coos, stroking his hair sympathetically, “You never had street cred, sweetie.”

       Jacobi’s playful jab to his stomach is met with a light ‘oof,’ but he keeps his smile hidden in Eiffel’s shoulder. Alana is _so_ going to make fun of him for making his first ever confession of love an awkward mess, but right now, he doesn’t know if he can bring himself to care all that much.

**Author's Note:**

> most of this was written on various days past 2am so!! im sorry it may be a little ooc


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